


Fortress Week (2017)

by snickering_lemon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fortress Week, Fortress Week 2017, Friendship/Love, M/M, Post-Omnic Crisis, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ganymede is in this lol, god im so late for this, i dont know how to tag this either uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snickering_lemon/pseuds/snickering_lemon
Summary: its a small ship but i like it and wanted to do fics for it, its fortress week (bastion/rein) and i love odd ships like that so here we golist:Day 1: NewDay 2: GardenDay 3: ValentineDay 4: First Date/First TimeDay 5: Past and FutureDay 6: Comfort/SafeDay 7: LightDay 8: Free Day





	1. Fortress Week Day One: New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StrawberryOverlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrawberryOverlord/gifts).



> i am so late for this jesus christ sorry strawberry but i swear i did fics for it, im uploading them even if they are late. this first one is for day one: new. basically i did reinhardt and bastion meeting/encountering one another for the first time. 
> 
> reinhardt calls bastion an "it" in this  
> sorry if its lame, i wanted to keep it short

It was still hard, sometimes.

            Reinhardt would do anything for his team, he’d die for them, protect each and every individual team member with his dying, gurgling, bloody breath if he must. He knows not every inch and detail of their personal lives, but so long as they are good in the heart and mean well for the organization they work for, Reinhardt Wilhelm will protect them, in battle and out.

            But sometimes, it was hard.

            It was a bit of a struggle to wrap his mind around the fact that Genji was not an omnic, a bot made in an Omnium factory, but was rather born of flesh and blood. He looked the way he did through brutal accident, bringing him to a closer brush with death than he deserved. If it weren’t for the times that Reinhardt had seen the man without his protective face-wear in Angela’s infirmary, the German would have been sure that he was an omnic trying to pass off as human. They befriended one another, but not without the large man often times finding himself zoning out to a time in the past while he looked Genji in the mask. Watching how those little compressors in his arm would move, pushing small shuriken into his fingers.

            Where he was one second sitting in the lunch room with the young boy, the next he found himself back in the middle of warfare. Surrounded by robots of dangerous sizes, firing lead bullets into the bodies of his friends, his soldier companions, those he fought to protect.

            But then Genji would put his hand over his arm, looking up at him. Even though the boy’s face was obstructed from view, Reinhardt knew that a look of worry decorated the scarred features of the Japanese boy’s face.

            It took a shaky breath, but he’d throw the cyborg a smile and thank him for grounding him back to Earth, assuring him he would be fine.

            And usually, he would be.

            But then came Zenyatta.

            An actual omnic.

            The flashbacks got worse then, with those droopy eyes staring straight at him, into his eyes, his soul, his ethical background. He’d feel a burn in his chest, behind his eyes, a phantom rush of pain in his side where bullets had buried themselves into him a lifetime ago. An omnic monk would greet him, and yet all Reinhardt saw was the omnic’s whom called themselves soldiers, but were really nothing more than omnics tired and afraid of the violence they faced. Tired and afraid omnics who had decided to fight fire with fire, getting their metal hands on weapons they did not know how to use.

            The omnics that did know how to use them, they were bigger. Bulkier. Much more intimidating.

            But Zenyatta, he is a small thin thing. Like any omnic civilian.

            Looking down at the monk, Reinhardt Wilhelm felt like he was looking back down into the slits of a frightened and wounded omnic soldier, brandishing their weapon in Reinhardt’s direction in a futile attempt to save themselves.

            No longer can he look at dismantled machinery, whether done precisely or violently, without getting a sick feeling in his stomach.

            It took longer with Zenyatta, but soon Reinhardt began to learn how to smile and put his heart into it when around the lanky omnic. Listening to his peaceful and guiding words, allowing the monk to comfort him where he could.

            Bastion.

            Bastion’s “introduction” to the team was what had Reinhardt feel fury for the first time in a good long while. His team knows of him as the gentle giant, when off the battlefield. He was loud, but good natured and a joy to be around.

            They’ve received message from a few pilots whom have flown over the land of Eichenwalde, previously making their way to some destination or another. However, what lead them to contact Overwatch, of all organizations, was the fact that whilst flying past the abandoned German town, they came across what sounded like gunfire in a portion of the nearby forests of Eichenwalde. Knowing the history and what took place in the particular area, they had right to be suspicious that perhaps, just maybe, one of the bastion units remained active.

            The pilots had been right.

            It was no surprise that the Overwatch head leaders had chosen him, amongst other members of the team, to investigate the claim. He had dealt with the bastion units before, knew how they worked up close. He also knew the area better than anyone else. But despite everything, he did not feel ready in any way, shape, or form to reenter the husk of what had been his home.

            Yes, it still flourishes with beautiful greenery and lively animals. But it misses the commotion and action that only the people who once lived there could provide.

            And yet, he had to push it all down. For the sake of his team, for the sake of the people. If there were more bastion units that were somehow left activated, they must be located and destroyed on spot.

            The plan was simple, and would have been somewhat difficult, yet relatively straight forward to accomplish.

            And yet-.

            They found the bastion unit, yes.

            But where Reinhardt had expected to find the robot waiting for the whole team, detecting them by the sound of their steps (especially his own heavy steps) and ready to fill them with lead, the robot was instead just. Sitting.

            Not even in its designated turret mode, no. It was sitting as a person would, legs outstretched before itself and its-…feet? Its feet were submerged in lake water, their large shining optic trained on the fish that would swim past.

            Most shocking of all, there was a bird’s nest of sticks and leaves atop its shoulder. Not only that, but the nest homed three spotted eggs, all in perfect shape. Not a crack to be found on any of their shells, from what Reinhardt could see.

            He knew it could hear him, it had to. Yet it kept looking into the water, chirping and beeping quietly, as if talking to itself.

            Adam’s apple bobbing, Reinhardt took a step forwards. He straightened his spine and puffed his barrel chest outwards, keeping his head straight and attempting to appear braver than he felt.

            His appearance was noticed only by a small bird whom swooped to his shoulders, their soft golden feathers tickling the shell of his right ear as it landed on his right shoulder, singing sweetly to him. Only then did the robot turn around and face him, sitting alert and watching both human and bird.

            There was not a single detail that made the bastion unit any different than the hundreds of thousands that Reinhardt and his men had to fight and die to. Now officially facing the bastion unit, even if with a bit of distance between them, Reinhardt found himself tensing. All sense of bravery left him, leaving him feeling less like a large handsome knight in crusader’s armor, and more like a child left with someone who had hurt him.

            The warmth of his puffing breath began to grow unbearable against the metal of his helmet, leaving the man feeling as if he were not getting enough air in his lungs, as if he were being suffocated by his own breath. More so when the weapon of a robot began to stand up. Clumps of dirt, grass, and other vegetation fell to the ground with the robot’s movements, revealing more and more of that familiar outer shell that Reinhardt knew all too well.

            It made no immediate move to approach, however. Once on its two feet, it simply stood there, staring Reinhardt down. Even with the space between them, Reinhardt could still hear the heavy whirr of inner machinery coming from the war omnic. It was loud, alarmingly so, but the man couldn’t bring himself to care over the bastion unit’s state of health and whether its fans were supposed to be so loud. It’s not like he could hear the whirr of idling bastion units whilst in the war, where gunfire outweighed any other noise there may be.

            Except the screams. Nothing could ever overcome the screams of the fallen, the injured, the dying.

            Golden beams of sunlight slipping through the gaps between groups of crisp green leaves gave each man and omnic a heavenly glow, making both appear as angels. It was almost funny, the thought that entered Wilhelm’s mind. To make the comparison of his current situation to that of being in heaven.

            What would bring two opposing forces in a war to meet in heaven?

            Only death, of course.

            Do omnics have a heaven?

            Neither man nor omnic dared to twitch a single finger.

            Blue eye, white eye, both met a rectangular blue optic. Nature ignored the tense atmosphere between the two, allowing itself to ruffle the leaves of the surrounding trees with a gentle gust of wind. The blooming flowers on the bastion unit’s body danced softly with the wind, brushing against the plates of their armor.

            Did it count as armor if it was a part of its body?

            How many bullets would it take to kill him through his own armor suit?

            How far away could he get from this machine if he tried to run now?

            Frantic thought after thought rushed through the German’s mind, snapping him out of his fearful trance and sending him springing into action. Of course, the only course of action he thought to complete was to _flee_. He turned, ready to carry himself and his pounds of heavy armor as far away from death itself as he could manage.

            But then it finally moved.

            It made a noise.

            A noise of alarm, only ever sounded off before the damn thing switches into its nearly indestructible turret form.

            Ready to accept his fate, the crusader coughed out a pathetic sob, keeping his back away from the very machine he had fought time after time again, the same machine he had lost so many good people to, the same machine who had killed innocent civilians.

            Muscles tense and eyes shut closed, Reinhardt mentally prepared himself for the agonizing pain of lead bullets penetrating his flesh, ruining him the same way his friends had been mangled.

            He could only flinch as he heard the robot move in a way that sounded too much like its panels rearranging themselves.

            _Mein friends, it has been an honor to fight by your side. I will watch over you._

            He waited.

            And waited.

            Where he expected gunfire and pain to follow, what came next was instead the same song the delicate yellow bird had sung to him. It was not the harsh thunder and rain of a spray of bullets, but Wilhelm flinched all the same, nerves drawn tight and muscles quivering.

            Still, he did not look back.

            Not even when the singing began to fade away, and with it, the heavy mechanical footsteps.

            Not even when only the sounds of nature’s docility accompanied him.

            When he finally turned back, Reinhardt found himself alone.


	2. Fortress Week Day Two: Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gonna plant some flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love gardens and i wish i had one of my own

     Bastion is a large bastion unit, towering well above every member of the Overwatch team. Sure a select few could compete with the bot for height empowerment, not like the childish thing ever needed or wanted it, but no one could quite match the bastion unit’s height exactly. Nor their width. They were a very big thing.

     Unfortunately, it did not seem like Bastion was aware of just how big they are.

     A grin was playing at Reinhardt’s lips, his tongue darting out to lick at sweat beading and trailing down his face and into his mouth. It was a hot summer’s day and his sun hat only did so much to cool him down. So he had removed his shirt, baring his hairy chest and stomach for the world to admire.

     While the world was occupied with other, more important matters, it seems that Bastion had more than enough time to do the admiring that the world wouldn’t.

     Now, this wouldn’t be a problem at all under normal circumstances. Reinhardt was well aware of just how curious the bot could be when it came to the anatomy and behaviorism of human beings. They usually had no problem in openly staring and touching and prodding at their fleshy team mates.

     But see, that’s where the problem came in.

     Bastion was trying to _hide_ the fact that they were staring.

     It was so painfully obvious that the omnic wasn’t at all used to trying to be subtle, because they were behaving as subtle as a lion in an office cubicle, painted hot pink.

     Their body was turned away, but their optic was full on trained on the German crusader.

     Reinhardt dragged the surface of his arm across his forehead, wiping off a thick layer of sweat and grime building up on his skin. He was kind enough to give the robot an ‘A’ for effort at least. They were certainly trying; even going as far as to hide behind a hedge.

     Unfortunately the entirety of their shoulders and above was exposed above the hedge, with only their chest and below being obstructed from view. Yet still, they behaved as if they believed they were in perfect concealment.

     It must be due to the fact that Bastion must think that the sunhat atop the elder man’s head would be doing half the job for them, obstructing them from his view.

     It’d be a smart guess, but incorrect.

     Still, Reinhardt pretended to not notice them, kneeling in the grass and continuing to spray each individual flower and plant with his spray bottle of water. He’d tenderly take the leaves in hand, holding them between his fingers as he spritzed them.

     He had just finished taking count of his plants, checking off the number in a mental chart and feeling proud of himself for the progress of his garden. While he was an amazing knight and crusader, Reinhardt Wilhelm was also a damn good gardener.

     His whole team knew it, going to him and asking him for the (sometimes paid for) favor of having their lawns stocked with beautiful plants of all shades and sizes.

     Looking below the brim of his woven sunhat, Reinhardt made direct eye contact with the bastion unit, making them flinch and make a high pitched sound of alarm, seemingly surprised by the fact that they have been spotted, like they couldn’t believe it was a possible event that could have transpired.

     But rather than call them out on their intrusive staring, Reinhardt simply offered a great toothy smile and raised his head the rest of the way, sitting back on his haunches and waving his spray bottle at the omnic.

     “My friend, would you like to join me and learn of the wonders of gardening?”

     He smiled at them, waiting for them to make their decision. They seemed to still be gathering their composure, looking left and right, then down at themselves, as if they were unsure of whether it was themselves who was being addressed or not. Finally, they pointed a silver finger to their own chest.

     “Yes, my great mechanical friend! Come, come!” He waves them over, ignoring the clumps of dirt that fall to his lap from his dirtied gardening glove. Bastion chirps excitedly, their head bobbing up and down above the hedge as they make their way around and towards the kneeling man, quickly joining him on the grass and immediately kneeling beside him.

     Rather than look down at the bed of flowers before them, however, Bastion kept the blue light of their ‘eye’ trained on Reinhardt, looking him up and down.

     The man was patient, smiling kindly and returning to his work, allowing the robot to take in his appearance.

     As if they hadn’t been doing enough of that beforehand, he mused.

     “Now, Bastion,” He began, startling the bot once more and sending them looking to his hands in a weak attempt to hide the fact that they had been staring once more. “You are familiar with plant life, yes?”

     They nod, looking eager.

     Of course they were, they were once a garden themselves. It was a nice look, Reinhardt recalls.

     “Do you know how to care for plant life?”

     This gives them pause, leaving that rectangle of blue light staring at the crusader. Slowly, they shake their head, giving a few beeps in explanation. An explanation Reinhardt couldn’t understand, but appreciated anyways.

     “Let me show you,” Bastion watches with rapt attention as the man removes the glove of his right hand and reaches into his pocket, fiddling with something out of view. When he turns back around, he holds his palm out to the bastion unit, offering them two tiny little seeds. “These are seeds, it’s what all plants come out of. This,” he points to the seeds. “-will turn into that.” The same finger points vaguely to the various plants decorating his garden.

     His other hand held a trowel, still gloved. He gets up and walks behind the omnic, humming in thought as he scans the garden bed. Bastion switches between looking up at him and looking down at the flower bed, wondering what it was he searched for.

     It took a bit, with the man humming above them, but he seems to have found what he was looking for, giving a little successive “ah” as he did so.

     “Here.” He kneels down, piercing the earth with the small shovel and beginning to dig a moderately deep hole alongside his other blooming flowers. “Go ahead and put the seeds in here, Bastion.”

     The omnic does as told, giddy and excited to be able to take part in helping Reinhardt with an activity he enjoyed. They don’t bother standing up, choosing instead to scoot forward on their knees and reach over the flowers to get to the hole, carefully dropping in the two seeds one by one.

     “Very good, try and cover it up with the dirt now.”

     Happy with themselves and their predicament, Bastion begins to hum and chirp musically, cupping the dug up soil with their one hand and filling the cavity as instructed, patting the soil afterwards and looking up at Reinhardt. They watched as the soil was then watered.

     The man sat back on his haunches, using his dirty fingers to groom his gorgeous gray locks, stroking them back and away from his sweaty forehead, tucking them underneath his sunhat. Huffing proudly, Reinhardt look to the bastion unit, offering a large smile.

     “You now have yourself some lovely peony to look after, Bastion.”

     They didn’t quite understand what a peony was, but they knew enough to understand that these seeds they had just buried was now _their_ responsibility. Something to look after, to take care of. Something Reinhardt helped them create.

     Bastion stayed dedicated and loyal, visiting Reinhardt every day simply to check in on the growth of their flowers, to water when necessary.

     Soon after, they strayed from their original task and began to help the man in other sections of his garden, carefully plucking vegetables red and green alike.

     One flower became two, then three, then ten, then Bastion had their own tomato stalk to call their own.

     When Reinhardt would be called by his friends to help with their gardens, Bastion was asked to come along.

     And they would, sunhat atop their head and gardening apron around their body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know shit about gardening

**Author's Note:**

> i was busy im so sorry omg i hope you like this anyways


End file.
